


Into Your Arms Again

by foolhearty



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bad Puns, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Master/Pet if you squint real hard, Multi, No Beta, No Incest Just Sharing Prompto, Open Relationships, Smut, Trans Male Character, Trans Prompto
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:05:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolhearty/pseuds/foolhearty
Summary: But at the end of the day, being official in any capacity with Noctis and Regis is all he’d really wanted. Knowing they want him around so earnestly that they’d jump through hoops to keep him safe is equal parts embarrassing as it is heartwarming.





	1. Hot and Bothered

**Author's Note:**

> This was... intended to be a oneshot, but once I reached page 8 of my document for this I decided it needed to be chaptered. There probably won't be many chapters, but there will be a few. 
> 
> Some notices and warnings up front, just for anyone concerned: first, there will be no romantic or sexual interactions between Noct and Regis here, so fear not. I don't write incest. All we'll have is the two Lucis Caelums sharing Prompto through an open relationship! And second, as usual I do not have a beta. We run wild and free here with typos and shifts in tense. Such is life!

When he wakes up, he recognizes instantly that he isn’t in his own bed. This would have once come as a shock; so familiar once was the ache that came along with waking up on his old, spring-ridden twin mattress that waking up anywhere else was vaguely unsettling. Since childhood he’d grown used to a certain set of four walls surrounding him when his eyes first opened for the day, but the opposite stands true now. 

For years now he’s spent more than half his time at Noct’s place; slowly but surely, most of Prompto’s life has moved into Noct’s apartment. His toothbrush is in Noct’s hall bathroom and his clothes are piled up in a closet in Noct’s spare bedroom. He’s got a mass of shoes piled by the door and more photography equipment than he wants to admit to having spent money on strewn all about the apartment (though the bulk of it is kept safe in the spare room as well, far away from where he and Noct might drunkenly trip over things in the middle of screaming matches during Mario Kart night). 

Waking up in bed next to Noct is second nature; it’s warm and comfortable, and each morning he fights the urge to tuck in closer to his friend and fall back asleep. Noct makes it look so easy. He could sleep through a bus hitting the building and never know it happened. But Prompto has more discipline than that and has started every morning with a run for at least the last six years. As much as he’d love to take a lazy morning and be there when Noct finally decides to rouse himself from bed, he can’t; he isn’t about to break an ongoing streak for anything less than bad pneumonia or a major surgery. He’s run on head colds and run through some pretty shitty instances of the flu over the years, against all odds, and today there isn’t a damn thing wrong with him so there’s no reason he can’t crawl out of bed, slide on some shorts and a tank and be on his way out the door. 

He’s greeted by the image of Ignis working quietly in the kitchen as he’s about to leave, and gives him a warm hello before sprinting off into the hall, down the stairs, and out into the early morning sun. 

He’d resisted letting himself have this kind of lifestyle for the first few years of his and Noct’s friendship, having not wanted to seem like he was simply mooching off of the prince for a more comfortable way of life. Even now, he has certain weeks where he begins to feel bad all over again and insists on staying at the apartment he still technically shares with his parents until the feeling passes and he starts lugging all his stuff back over to Noct’s. 

But on the whole these days, he’s at peace with everything he and Noct do together. He lets Noct buy him things from time to time without it throwing him into deep, guilt-ridden panic. He helps Ignis clean the house. He trains with Noct and Gladio at the Citadel three times a week and with  _ Cor the Immortal _ six days a week on top of that. He thought he had stamina before, just from being a runner, but Cor puts him through the fucking ringer and he actually loves it. Noct jokes that people like he, Cor, and Gladio must not be human, because of how much they all seem to live for their respective workout routines. 

Prompto just jokes Noct would rather be playing video games, but at heart he knows why Noct complains so often.

The Crystal can’t be an easy thing to work with. Noct is young so he’s still more than capable of handling it with relative ease, but his father is a constant reminder that ten, twenty, thirty years from now? Noct will need to begin slowing down, lest he risk his life just by calling upon a weapon too frequently. Even now, after particularly long training sessions or difficult sparring matches, Noct is wiped of all energy and desire to do anything but lay down on the training room floor and pass out. It scares Prompto. That fear is why he’s still here, at Noct’s side: if him being near Noct is any comfort at all, which Noct swears it is, then Prompto has no plans to leave him. 

If he can help one of the most important people in his life, then he must be worth something. 

That’s why he wakes up at Noct’s almost every day. And why he lingers by Regis’ side just as often. How he got himself into a position of comforting and caring for both Lucis Caelums, he’ll never exactly know, but he knows this: during their respective times of high stress, they each never fail to call Prompto and ask for him to be by their sides. They need love and affection, a tender ear to vent their worries to: someone they trust to never judge them in their times of weakness. When they lay drained of energy after calling upon excess magic from the crystal or the ring, they simply need someone who cares.

Thinking about the life he leads now brings heat to his cheeks. Gossip columns and eventually major news outlets had caught wind of who he was at first only because he was a commoner befriending the Prince of Lucis, but by the time he was nineteen and spreading his legs for both Noctis and Regis he’d become known by the media for something entirely different.  _ Royal Courtesan, _ they called him when being their most polite;  _ Royal Cocksleeve, _ when being their least. Despite expected levels of awkwardness in knowing they shared Prompto and his affections, Regis and Noct had spent over a week consoling him after the first few articles on him began appearing in the papers. They’d assured him he was more than that, that they cared for him and truly wanted him at their respective sides. 

Regis had spent the week pointedly not asking Prompto for sexual favors and having the Citadel kitchen staff serve nothing but Prompto’s favorite meals. Noct had spent it with he and Prompto in a bonafied blanket fortress and playing video games. Between the two of them and all their worrying, Prompto had ended up eating so many of his favorite snacks that week that he’d had to take extra long runs for the next month to work it all off. But he appreciated their attempts. Them giving him so much honest attention and care had been reassuring, and had given him the strength to sit down and confront the both of them on the issue as a whole. 

If he was going to be made out to be some Royal Courtesan, if he was going to keep being shared between them, it had to at least be something more official than the two vaguely friends-with-benefits style relationships that he’d found himself in. 

So. For the first time in over a hundred years, some ancient Lucian law about Royal Courtesans and Harems had been dusted off, looked back over, and updated. With Prompto filling the position, most of the media now has to stay off his back unless they wish to get sued for defamation of character. But at the end of the day, being official in any capacity with Noctis and Regis is all he’d really wanted. Knowing they want him around so earnestly that they’d jump through hoops to keep him safe is equal parts embarrassing as it is heartwarming. 

He finishes his run right back at Noct’s front door, dripping with sweat and dreading having to peel off his workout clothes to get into the shower but otherwise pleased with how his morning had begun. He’d run his usual loop from Noct’s apartment to his own, then around a few close by neighborhoods, then back. He has energy still for more, and it’s his one free day of the week without any training at all so he should responsibly run another loop, but he wants to be back and showered before Iggy finishes cooking breakfast. And he wants to be back in time to wake Noct up himself for once, instead of letting Iggy do it. 

“I smell bacon,” he chimes as he clambers through the front door, receiving a half-laugh from Ignis in response.

“Yes, you made it in time for a hot breakfast. We may not be able to say the same about Noct.”

Prompto is peeling his shoes off and about to spring into action when he hears a vaguely offended grumble from across the room. Meeting his gaze when he looks up is the prince in question, hair a sweaty, all over the place mess.

“I wake up to a broken AC unit in my room and get greeted by the two of you picking on me,” he crows, and Prompto isn’t sure if he’s truly hurt or if he’s simply being dramatic. “Iggy, tell me food is done so you can call a repair guy up here within the next hour or I’ll lose my mind.”

“The air conditioning in your room has stopped working?” 

Prompto and Ignis share a confused look. Ignis brow raises curiously, and Prompto shrugs once he’s finally finished removing his shoes. The room had felt fine to him when he left, but as he checks his phone he sighs. He’d only been gone for about an hour. Maybe he’d just sprinted out of the room too fast to notice anything was up. 

“Iggy, I can get our food onto plates if you want to go make the call. Promise I won’t burn the building down.” He makes his way to Noct’s side as he speaks, then pats him on the cheeks and smiles warmly. “Go sit down. We’ll take a nice shower after we eat, how ‘bout that? It’ll help us cool down while we wait.”

Noct’s stomach grumbles. Ignis can be heard carefully turning down the heat on all the stove tops before getting to work. Phone already in hand, he leaves the room to make the call somewhere quieter so he can bicker with the apartment complex’s repair staff in private. It leaves Noct and Prompto alone together in the living room, alone with the smell of breakfast wafting over the counter. At the second grumble of Noctis’ stomach, Prompto laughs. 

“Alright. I  _ told _ you to sit down. I’ll give you the bigger serving, you whiny baby.”

Noctis gives in with little resistance; he probably won’t be awake and ready to handle the world until he’s stuffed and showered. Prompto feels a bit guilty for finding his bedhair as adorable as he does. They eat together in companionable silence for most of breakfast, but their feet kick gently against one another. It’s a sign that Noct is waking up in earnest. He’s awake enough to at least be playful. 

Prompto takes it as a sign that he can go in for a swift smooch and not get batted away for being too sudden. Noct surprises him, though, by meeting him halfway; it stuns Prompto, but he melts into it as seamlessly as ever. He stands from his stool to inch closer to Noct. They’re bliss, these simple moments; he pulls away and nudges Noct and smiles as sweetly as he can before stating:

“Noct, if you’re trying to get some, it happens after we shower. I love you, but you hair is ridiculous and you need to brush your teeth. I’m wearing shorts that are going to meld to my skin and be stuck to me permanently by sweat if I don’t get them off in the next five minutes.” 

To his relief, Noct laughs. “Yeah, yeah. You can be as bad as Ignis sometimes, you know that? It’s not even your job to worry about me like that- well... I guess it technically is now, but still. Prom. Relax.” He goes in for another kiss, but Prompto is already stepping away from the counter and turning to head towards the hall.

“Showers first.”

Against what likely both of them wished, they took their showers in separate bathrooms. As much as Prompto adores getting under Noct’s skin in the warm comfort of his shower (because it has jets on the walls that hit his clit just right when Noct presses him to the wall and bites at his ears), he needs the time alone to mentally decompress and cool down. And Noct probably needs it too, as much as he’d refused to admit it. The water is freezing in the spare bathroom, but it’s as much a blessing as it is a curse. It feels good against his flushed skin despite the way it perks his nipples and sends goosebumps trailing up and down his arms. 

He breathes softly and presses his forehead against the tile; distantly, he hears his phone chime with a familiar, personalized text alert, and it’s one he knows he can’t ignore for too long. But for now, he lets his eyes slip closed as the water trails down his back and rinses soap down the drain. Summer in Lucis can be hell. There’s an anecdote he heard once from his father, something about the city of Insomnia getting hotter than Hellfire on certain days simply in response to Ifrit’s pure spite for the Caelum line and the people they protect so dearly. 

Prompto jokes that it’s just because the magic wall surrounding the city acts like a magnifying glass and everyone inside is scrambling around like little ants, using their air conditioned homes as tiny respites from the heat. But the mornings are cool enough and the evenings even out comfortably; it’s a shame Noct spends the entire morning sleeping in and the entire evening knocking out early. It would be nice, one of these days, to convince Noct to go out on the town for a while, before anyone really starts talking about heavy stuff like coronations and weddings and heirs. While Noct is still free to have some semblance of a normal life, Prompto would like to make him have some normal person fun.

But that day won’t be today. Prompto knows that much, at least. When he checks his texts, he’s met with the amusing texting mannerisms of none other than King Regis himself.  His Majesty kindly requests that Prompto, quote, “hurry to the Citadel before he has to send Clarus to steal him” to which Prompto replies, playfully, “kidnap me yourself or don’t kidnap me at all ;).”

It’s all in good fun, though; he and Noct hadn’t had anything planned for the day and if Prompto knows his boyfriend at all, he’s probably ready to take a five hour nap on the couch where it’s cool. He’ll probably sleep through the repairman fixing the AC and only wake up when he smells Ignis making a late lunch. So spoiled. But Prompto can’t deny that a sleepy Noct is an adorable one, and he’s almost certain that’s the only reason Ignis still puts up with it. 

Once he’s completely dried himself off from the shower and slipped into a clean binder and clothes that aren’t soaked through with sweat, he gathers up all his dirty laundry into the towel he’d used to dry off and sets off to toss it in the laundry hamper. In the past few weeks there have been multiple times where Noct has weaseled his way into sharing showers with him and always, by the time they’re done showering, neither of them have the mind to think about picking up after themselves. 

Without fail Ignis cleans up after them every time they act like fools, and Prompto might feel a bit guilty about making him do it.

So he settles his laundry into the basket and lets himself be a little bit proud for doing it- now, he’ll be even prouder of himself when he finally convinces Noct to start acting like this from time to time, but he finds it hard to fault Noct for his tendency to let Ignis handle everything when that’s simply been their dynamic since they were children. 

Prompto wonders what it must have been like. 

Growing up, he often had long stints of time where he was alone at home while his parents were away for work. He’d needed to learn how to clean because he didn’t want to come home to a stinky house every day. And once he’d decided to drop some weight, he then had to learn how to cook as well- because he wasn’t eating out all the time anymore, and after about a month of eating nothing but cold, crunchy salad he knew he’d need to get over himself and learn how to use an oven to keep himself fed.

At this point, Ignis doesn’t just run Noct’s life- he runs about half of Prompto’s, too. Prompto hasn’t had to cook for himself more than twice in the last month, and while he’s not complaining about Ignis’ cooking, it’s still wild to come home every day and not have to take care of everything at home on his own. It’s even wilder when he stays at the Citadel with Regis, where he can have maids and butlers at his beck and call at any moment if he wants them.

He laughs at his own worries as he marches into the spare bedroom and digs out a duffel bag to ready himself for a weekend with Regis. He calls it a duffel bag, but the thing looks less like something a person would carry to track practice and more like something they’d be willing to carry into a business meeting if they happened to lose their actual briefcase. It’s wool and leather, the fabric a soft shade of grey and the straps and handles a shade of chocolate brown. The clasps to adjust the length of the straps are all gold and Prompto hasn’t had the heart to ask anyone whether the gold is real or fake. 

It had been a surprise gift from Regis last year when Prompto mentioned the bag he’d been using since well before high school had finally gotten a tear too big to keep patching up. So. Probably real gold. Prompto still isn’t going to ask, though. 

Into the bag, he stuffs a miscellany of clothes; mostly casual wear, because he knows that most of his time at the Citadel is going to be spent in privacy with Regis. He won’t have to look fancy, and in the event that he does need something fancier to wear- Regis has suits and formal wear for him at the Citadel, and he can wear one of those. He also packs his training attire and workout clothes, because even romantic weekends alone with the King don’t exclude him from Cor Leonis’ Hellish Fast-Tracked Crownsguard Training Regimen. With the last bit of free space in the bag, Prompto packs other necessary things- his phone charger, headphones, some panties, a spare binder, and a book he’s been promising Gladio for a month that he’ll read but still hasn’t.

He brings it with him almost everywhere, fully intended to start reading. Then he doesn’t.

Within 30 minutes, he’s essentially ready to go- he’s got the duffel bag and a thicker bag for his laptop and some camera stuff. He already has shampoos, deodorant, and a toothbrush at the Citadel, so he doesn’t need to pack any of that. He huffs a lazy sigh, and as he’s in the process of scratching his head, he hears a knock on the wall behind him. Standing in the hallway, Ignis is giving him a funny look, and Prompto is about to question it when Ignis says-

“His Majesty has arrived with the Regalia and is requesting that you accompany him back to the Citadel this evening.” Ignis rolls his eyes as he speaks. “I’d suggest you hurry, before he kills Noctis with more jokes than he can handle on what little sleep he’s had.”

Prompto snorts, even as he feels a blush coming to his cheeks.  _ Kidnap me yourself, _ he’d said. He should have known Regis would take it to heart.

“You know son, you look like a...  _ hot mess _ .”

Prompto can hear Noct groaning as he makes his way back out into the living room, both of his bags slung over his shoulder. Ignis must have told Regis about the broken AC unit in the bedroom. 

“Now, don’t go giving me the  _ cold shoulder _ over this.”

“Dad-”

“There’s no need to get so  _ heated- _ ”

“ _ Dad! _ ”

“Are you truly so  _ hot and bothered _ by-”

“Dad, I’m serious, if you don’t-”

“Well,  _ Serious, _ as your father, I-”

“Stop, stop,” Prompto laughs, letting his bags flop half-carefully onto the floor by the coffee table. “I don’t want to witness a murder today, okay. No more.” At the sound of Noctis sighing in relief, Prompto grins and says- “It isn’t  _ punny _ anymore, Your Majesty.”

Regis roars with laughter. Noctis beams a couch cushion at his head. Ignis looks like he’d rather tear his hair out than watch that pillow break something. Prompto is happy.

“C’mere,” Prompto says, dragging Noct off the couch. “Gimme a kiss. I’m leaving.”

“I’m not kissing you,” Noct insists, then gets a twinkle in his eye. “Consider it your...  _ pun- _ ishment.”

Prompto snorts, threading his fingers into Noct’s hair and sighing softly. He kisses Noct anyway, pressing their lips together quickly, before Noct can make any real attempt to play-fight away from him. When Noct gives up the act and returns the kiss, they relax into each other easily. 

“I’m glad you’re _warming_ _up_ to one another, but Prompto was getting ready to leave.”

“ _ Ignis! _ ”

Before Noct can get back into it, Prompto slams another kiss to his lips. “He’s right. I’m heading out for the weekend.” He brushes some hair away from Noct’s face. He can’t stop himself from littering it with kisses- his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his forehead. “You’ll call me if you need anything, right?”

“Yeah. Yep.” Noct looks embarrassed, and it’s the most adorable thing Prompto has ever seen. He loves Noct so much. Noct pecks him on the lips one more time before squirming away. “Alright, go on. Get outta here. I need to sleep. Take my heathen punmaster of a father and go.”

Noct gives him a little shove, and Prompto is moved with ease because he isn’t trying to stand firm. He’s relaxed and happy, taking Noct’s teasing in stride. When he moves to gather his things back up, he’s met face to face with Regis- already in possession of both his bags. His face goes red and he’s hit with the sudden realization of how ridiculous his life has become. The King of Lucis is carrying his bags for him.  _ Willingly _ . 

Leave it to Prompto to get floored by the simplest things. 

“Shall we be on our way?” Regis asks, tone lighthearted, before swooping down to peck quickly at Prompto’s lips before he has a chance to respond. Prompto nods dumbly, face red as he follows Regis’ lead. Over his shoulder as they walk out the door, he calls back to Noctis and Ignis one last time-

“I’ll be back in a couple days. Call if you need anything.”

Ignis gives a curt “of course” while Noct simultaneously collapses onto the couch and releases the most dramatic, fake snore he’s ever made in his life. Prompto rolls his eyes as he shuts the door behind him and follow Regis out of the building and to the Regalia.


	2. Act Casual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wasn't planning on ending this chapter mid-scene. Or having this scene go on as long as it did period. But apparently my mind wants Regis and Prom's weekend together to be two chapters instead of one, so you're getting two chapters of this. Next chapter will end this scene and cover the rest of the weekend, then probably end with a shift back to Prom & Noct!
> 
> As usual, no beta. I might skim back through this later to fix any obvious typos, but I feel like making you all wait rough two weeks for this was long enough as is!

“Your hair is still damp,” are the first words Regis greets him with when they’re finally alone together, outside of Noct’s apartment. The elevator ride down from Noct’s level to the ground floor is blessedly private; there aren’t usually too many people around, considering the people here work all different schedules from what Prompto has seen, but he wouldn’t put it past Clarus to have called the apartment complex ahead of time to warn them that the King was coming, so that they could make sure he was given the privacy he needed when entering and exiting the building. 

“Didn’t think you’d actually just  _ show up, _ ” Prompto replies, voice heightened as he mock-complains and huffs. But he’s smiling, just a bit, and it shows he isn’t really mad at all. “Was planning on walking to the Citadel today. So my hair could air dry.”

His own preference is for the gelled look. It’s one of the few styles he thinks he genuinely looks good with, and it keeps hair out of his eyes. But Regis has a habit of complimenting him excessively when he leaves his hair down and lets it dry on it’s own; he says it gets fluffier and softer, and Prompto isn’t about to turn down a chance for extra affection. Whenever Regis plays with his hair and scratches gently at his scalp, Prompto feels like he’ll die and go to heaven. It’s one of the most relaxing, calming feelings in the world.

“I was under the impression that you wanted me to steal you away.” Regis sounds amused as he speaks, “I was afraid you wouldn’t visit if I didn’t give you incentive to.”

“You wanted to embarrass Noctis.”

“I wanted to embarrass Noctis.”

Neither of them miss a beat, and the fit of laughter they spill into is unimaginable. Regis draws Prompto closer to his side and squeezes at his upper arm. Prompto feels warm and at ease. He doesn’t resist the pull and he doesn’t bump playfully against Regis’ hip the way he might with Noct. Noct doesn’t wear a near constant leg brace. Regis does. And Prompto would never forgive himself if he managed to actually hurt him.

“You should invite him to dinner next week.” Prompto suggests. “He might sound bitter about it, but he misses you. He got all nostalgic the other night about when he was a kid...” 

The elevator comes to a halt on the lowest floor and after a moment the doors open with a dinging sound. Prompto and Regis stand still for a moment in silence, until the doors start to close on them again. They make a quick exit after that, Prompto sighing. He sounds softer when he pipes up again, now that they’re in a more public space. 

“He wants to spend more time with you. He’s just... bad at showing it.”

“I’m not particularly good at showing it either,” Regis admits, exiting the building. 

The Regalia is already pulled around front. Prompto isn’t surprised to see not only a driver waiting nearby, but Clarus as well. Kings and their Shields: package deals, most of the time. It makes Prompto smile.

“He ended a meeting early for you.” Clarus informs, and suddenly Prompto’s smile is gone. He snaps his head around to look at Regis, his brows furrowed and his lips in a pout. Leaving a meeting as early as possible is something he’d expect from Noctis on one of his bad days, but not from Regis- and definitely not from Regis on his behalf. Prompto looks equal parts nervous and disappointed, even though it isn’t his place to say what the King of Lucis does or doesn’t do with his time. 

“It was a small meeting,” Regis insists, shooting Clarus a half-hearted glare before meeting Prompto with a softened expression. He pats Prompto’s lower back and nudges him gently towards the car. “A small thing to finalize updated patrol routes around the city.”

“That sounds... _important?_ ”

“It  _ is _ important.” Clarus provides, shaking his head. The driver of the car starts the engine and begins driving them away to the Citadel. “But the bulk of the work, at least,  _ was _ finished.”

“I’ve left the final decisions to Cor and Drautos to hash out.” Regis smiles, “Which is how I’ve managed to weasel you out of training tomorrow. Cor will be busy...”

As Prompto climbs into the backseat of the Regalia, his gut reaction is sheer joy. It’s a feeling akin to when he was still in school and classes would get canceled during snowstorms: suddenly he is going to have a whole entire day with more free time than was expected, and the prospect of having two off days from training in a row sounds heavenly. But it isn’t long before a wry smile forms on his lips and he turns to Regis. 

“You know I’ll still workout on my own time,” he says. “I’m being put through fast-tracked training for a reason. Taking an extra day off completely would set me back in the long run...”

“Majesty,” Clarus says from the front seat, and Prompto swears he can hear the smallest hint of amusement in his tone despite his lack of outright laughter. “I have said it before, but if I am glad for nothing else, it is that you managed to fall for someone with decent sense about himself.”

Prompto’s entire face goes red. Regis grumbles. Prompto forgets so often that he and Noctis are actually more alike than they are different, especially when they feel they’re being picked on. Noct can turn into a grump at the drop of a hat when Gladio teases him. It shouldn’t be surprising that Regis and Clarus share a similar relationship with one another. 

“I should ban you from joining the Crownsguard,” Regis complains, shaking his head. “You work too hard.”

“I could be working harder.” Prompto smiles. “I could train with Cor every day of the week, instead of only six. The fact that he gives me an full on off day as it is surprises me. I know he does his own workout every day, on top of his usual work and training with me in the evenings.” He pauses, resting a hand on Regis’ thigh. “But I’ll keep my workout short tomorrow. I’ll do it while you get work done.”

“I’ll just have to keep you up late tonight.” Regis sounds decisive. “That’s all there is to it.”

Prompto feels himself freeze in real time, eyes widening and breath catching in his throat. It’s as if he’s sat hovering in the middle of the road while the Regalia has continued moving; like he’s frozen and left stuck in place. 

Regis looks all too pleased with himself when Prompto finally manages to turn and gape at him in shock. “ _ Your Majesty! _ ”

“Oh, Six above,” sighs Clarus. He’s long since learned how to expertly remove himself from Regis and Prompto’s embarrassing antics. With a simple eye roll, the Shield turns and faces to the front once more- seemingly content to pretend he and the driver are the only people in the car, and that there isn’t a aura of embarrassment wafting up from the backseat.

Prompto would curl into himself and die, if he weren’t used to having these sorts of bombshells dropped on him. Regis is so casually playful at times and it never fails to catch Prompto off guard. In moments like this, he’s a striking difference from the cheerful, light hearted man who torments his son with puns, but he’s still somehow different than how he is when he sits on the throne. Like this, he’s somehow a mixture of both: playful but commanding, full of intent to make true on his words. If there weren’t other people in the car, Prompto half-expects he’d already be stripped down to his underwear. 

That thought alone just brings further heat to his cheeks and ears. 

And in an instant, the heated air falls away with the sudden sound of Regis’ phone. His wry smile turns soft, he pats Prompto’s leg, and he answers the phone- leaving Prompto alone with his flustered thoughts for the remainder of the car ride. He deflates, exhaling the breath he’d been holding onto, and turns to pout out the window, only half-listening to the phone conversation that lasts until they reach their destination. 

Prompto spends the first hour or so of his time at the Citadel free from Regis’ torment. 

That’s what he’s settled on calling it, this weekend.  _ Torment _ . Not because it hurts him in any way, but because Regis being in a playful mood often leads to Prompto getting little sleep and even less time to catch his breath. Regis keeps him on his toes, that way. It’s as nerve-wracking as it is exciting. Sometimes their days together makes him dizzy, in the way a good roller coaster can make a person dizzy. It’s hard to keep his bearings, but he feels safe, and despite all his half-hearted complaints, the way Regis looks at him when he’s intentionally trying to embarrass him sends heat between his legs and forces him to admit to himself has a bit of a  _ thing _ for being picked on. 

He settles all of his things into a corner of Regis’ closet that has more or less become  _ his _ corner of the closet (not that he wants complain, when that one corner is larger than the closet he’d grown up with at his parent’s apartment). A moment or two is spent digging through all the clothes he stuffed into his bag; they look almost comical, in comparison for what Regis has on hand for him here. Nearly everything here is either silk or a suit, which comes in handy when they have guests or go out to nice places to eat, but isn’t exactly Prompto’s idea of casual attire. 

He’ll stick to his patched up jeans and vests, all in varying states of total thread by thread decomposition. Not that Regis ever seems to mind his style of dress. The King has bought him more than enough profane patches to add to his collection than Prompto will ever admit aloud.  _ The King of Lucis? _ Buying sew on patches with phrases like “DO NO HARM / TAKE NO SHIT” and “TOXIC MASCULINITY RUINS THE PARTY AGAIN” for his young lover? 

_ Yeah. _ Prompto thinks Clarus might just strangle him if word of that kind of behavior got out to the public. He can imagine the gossip columns already: “YOUNG COURTESAN POLLUTES KING OF LUCIS’ MIND, SENDS MORAL COMPASS HEADED SOUTH. MORE ON PAGE 11!” 

But Regis says he loves Prompto for his spark and individualism, and between that and a crowd of people who don’t really know him: whose opinion should he care more about?

With all his things finally tucked away, he throws himself onto a chaise lounge in a separate section of Regis room, turns on the TV, and gets busy flexing one of life’s most important skills: channel flipping at high speed and pretending that the TV guide doesn’t exist and thus can’t help him. He eventually settles on a rerun episode of  _ Hellfire’s Kitchen, _ but only because he hears the door across the room click open and closed. He cranes his neck and looks like a bit of a fool, nearly toppling off the chaise altogether, and shoots a grin and a little wave towards Regis.

“You could have gotten more comfortable.” Regis offers, already shrugging off the decorative half-cape thing he attaches to his coat and wears over his shoulders. There’s probably a word for what that thing is, but Prompto doesn’t know it- he’ll probably never care to learn it, either. 

“Comfortable, huh?” Prompto sounds half suspicious when he parrots the word back at Regis, but the edge of excited joy still hasn’t left him. He twists himself around until he’s sitting upright like a normal human being once again, rather than lounging like he’s just fainted across the furniture like someone in an old period drama. 

He doesn’t stand, but looks up at Regis with intent. “How comfy should I be?”

Down to only his dress pants and button up shirt, Regis somehow manages to make something that is still formal wear look casual- perhaps because the rest of his usual outfit always seems so stuffy? When Regis sheds those layers and layers of extra clothes, Prompto is reminded that even the King of Lucis is just another person. But casual or not, his air of easy dominance doesn’t disperse for even a moment. 

As Regis settles into an armchair across the sitting area from him, he smiles cryptically. 

“Was I unclear?” He muses, “I want you undressed, Prompto. And grab your cushion and collar from the closet, while you’re at it.”

Everything stops. He’s hit with warmth running through his body, like a furnace blowing hot air directly into his face. But there’s heat down lower as well, and a sudden emptiness. An urge to rush to Regis’ bidding fills him up, and he does. He scrambles to his feet and makes for the closet, wiggling out of his clothes piece by piece as he walks.

He earns a laugh from Regis for doing it that way. He muse look absolutely ridiculous as he all but trips over his own two feet trying to strip himself. By the time he reaches the closet, he’s bare of everything except his binder. Admittedly, that takes longer to peel off. It always does. But Regis is patient, and that’s something Prompto is always assured of. He cares more about Prompto’s comfort than any of his desires to rush things along. 

After he escapes his fabric prison, he takes a moment to arch and stretch his back, breathing in deeply a time or two- just for his own sake. 

It’s when he makes to grab his collar that the nerves really set in once again. It’s a jittering excitement. Regis hasn’t collared him in weeks. Prompto would be embarrassed to admit the itch he’s had for it, if he wasn’t so thrilled. He also grabs his cushion, a large, plush, soft thing that Regis allows Prompto to sit on when he intends to have him kneeling for hours at a time. It’s a blessing; he may be young, but kneeling for three hours on a hard, marble floor still hurts. 

When he returns to Regis’ side, he nearly turns to mush right then and there. Regis is relaxed back in his armchair, legs spread open wide, and the smile on his face is the warmest, most pleased thing Prompto has ever seen. He looks happy. Proud. 

Prompto understands what’s being asked of him, and settles his cushion between Regis’ parted legs. He takes a second to get comfortable when he kneels down onto it, getting all the fluff inside to sit just right and keep him comfy for the foreseeable future, but knows better than to take too long getting ready. Once he’s settled, he gazes up at Regis and reaches up to hand over the collar. 

It isn’t the first one Regis has bought for him, but it’s Prompto’s current favorite. It’s custom made- the leather a softer shade of pink than anything he and Regis had been able to find when perusing online stores, and the simple, steel O-ring that sits right at the middle of his throat. When Regis wraps the leather bands around his throat and snaps it into place, any concept of Prompto existing for his own sake fades away like magic. The sound of the snaps clicking together does the trick, bringing him easily into a warm, happy headspace- a space where all he knows and all he cares about, is Regis.

He smiles so sweetly and nuzzles forward, nosing along the crotch of Regis’ dress pants. He feels Regis twitch just slightly, but it’s enough to have Prompto hungry for more. But he isn’t allowed to have it, not yet, not until Regis says he’s earned it. 

Regis cards a hand through his hair and Prompto downright purrs. The sounds that leave his lips are downright sinful.

“I’ve made you wait quite a while, haven’t I?” Regis chuckles, combing fingers through his hair over and over in a petting motion. With his free hand, though, he puts a finger to Prompto’s lips. Prompto knows what that motion means.  _ No talking. _ Prompto makes a show of how he purses his lips together after that, wanting so badly to show how good and patient he can be. Wants to show Regis how well he was trained, wants to prove he remembers all the commands- both verbal ones, and the gestured ones. 

When Regis reaches his hand around to the short hairs on the back of his head, just above his neck, and starts scratching their too, Prompto whimpers and sucks in a sharp breath. 

“I won’t make you wait long tonight, dear.” Even as he speaks the words, Regis is unzipping his pants and pulling his cock free. With the had still resting at the back of Prompto’s skill, Regis urges him foreward. Regis isn’t fully erect yet, but there’s interest showing. Prompto knows better than to be discouraged. Regis likes the foreplay. The build up. It always takes time, and it’s always worth the wait. 

He waits until Regis pats his head twice before wetting his lips and taking cock into his mouth. Regis doesn’t tell him to suck, so he doesn’t- he takes his entire length in one motion, then goes almost completely still, save for the idle movements of his tongue as he swirls it around the intrusion in his mouth. Regis gives a pleased him and Prompto hears the TV behind him begin switching channels. Regis doesn’t settle on any one thing for quite a long time- he sits on the news for a moment or two, but seemingly thinks better of it and finds a movie channel to put on instead.

Prompto doesn’t recognize the exact film by the sounds alone, but it sounds old. His focus on the sounds gradually fade away the longer the afternoon stretches on. Prompto focuses on nothing at all, except the feeling of Regis slowly coming to full hardness. He’s in heaven here, bare before Regis and settles on his knees. 

Then Regis’ phone rings. 

Prompto is just aware enough to catch Regis cursing under his breath before answering, but he doesn’t usher Prompto away just yet. He does that when the phone call ends. It breaks Prompto’s heart, almost- but Regis’ sympathetic smile eases the hurt. 

“Will you be good and stay still for me?” He’s standing over Prompto now, unceremoniously tugging up the zipper of his pants as he speaks. “Perfectly still?”

Prompto adjusts his posture with Regis’ direction, straightening his back and leveling his head. Everything about him is still a daze, his body practically a mannequin for Regis to pose as he sees fit. When he’s set to Regis’ standard, Regis continues speaking. 

“Now stay still. I should be back within the hour.” With a second of extra thought, though, Regis places something down on the chair in front of Prompto. Prompto doesn’t look- he doesn’t tilt his head down, and he doesn’t dare even moving his gaze from where Regis had seemingly suggested he keepit. “If I’m going to be any later than that, I will call you and you will have my permission to move and relax, if you’ve become uncomfortable at all.”

Prompto feels a swell of warmth in his chest. Regis is so careful with him. So kind. So safe. He feels tears begin to well up in his eyes, but he’s smiling, and that smile twitches just barely wider when he hears Regis laugh. 

“Remember. No moving until I call or return. I’ll be back soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: One of the patches I described in this chapter is based on a rosegold pin I want to buy for myself soon, and the other is actually based off a merch line from a podcast I listen to. 
> 
> Feel free to find me on my [writing tumblr](https://foolhearty.tumblr.com/) or my [writing twitter](https://twitter.com/_foolhearty). Tumblr is infinitely more active, at this point.


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